


Rule 8

by Questions3



Series: Rules and Regulations [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your Real Family Loves You</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rule 8

**Author's Note:**

> I have something like five different one shots running at the same time, none wanting to just finish in one sitting, and another chapter working itself out and suddenly THIS happened. Don't ask me what the hell is happening in my fucked up head, I have no idea. But I really am enjoying Grammy Baggins so I'm not THAT sad about this. I'mma accept this as some backstory on why Bilbo CAN actually flee with her mother without any kind of Baggins family intervention.

            “I’ve seen those eyes before,” the wry tone had the curly back haired faunt looking up from where she was hunched on the bench outside Bagend. Bilbo’s large amber eyes widened a bit as she watched the elderly lady coming up Bagshot and stopping right in front of her seat outside the gate to the smial. She was dressed as she was always dressed, in a painfully tidy white blouse with light blue and yellow embroidered flowers at the edges tucked into a pressed and creased blue frock with the same designs only in yellow and white. Weather features on a wrinkled face were made all the more severe by the tight bun that clasped the thick long white and grey hair at the top of her head. Blue eyes, though fading and not as sharp seeing as they once were, could still find even the tiniest speck of dust or the smallest out of place wrinkle or hair on a hobbit’s person. The light blue made the critique all the sharper for flashing icily as she catalogued the offenses to propriety. The only thing about the elder hobbit that didn’t intimidate was her height. Gramma Baggins was a diminutive hobbit; the smallest adult Biblo had ever seen that’s for sure. She’d apparently shrank with age as she was heard often telling people that if she was her normal height she’d rap their heads so hard they would quake next time they thought to do such a stupid deed. Papa would tell Bilbo after, though, that Gramma Baggins was always a tiny hobbit, barely reaching Grampa Baggins’ shoulders when they’d first been married. Of course, the first time Grammy had caught him telling Bilbo this the little old woman had rapped him in the knee with her yew cane and snagged his ear yelling about how one should never call a lady a liar and she’d taught him _far_ better than that, it was all the work of that good for nothing Took he’d married and by the Lady if she ruined all the work she’d put into her son she’d see the strumpet strung up on the Maypole during the Spring Festival!

            Mama was never very happy when Gramma Baggins came to visit either. She was never overtly mean to the old woman, quite the opposite. Belladonna went out of her way to make the elder’s stay as comfortable as possible, being extra polite and demur… At least she was for the first few hours’… minutes. Bilbo would always know when things were going to get good by the color red her Mama’s ears turned. Pink was okay, that was just Mama saying hello, she’d bite her tongue as she stopped herself from replying to the ill hidden sniff at the state of the smial. When an orange red started taking over Mama’s jaw started working something awful, like she was biting her words and they tasted like slugs. Normally that would happen when Gramma started telling Mama about all the young lady’s in town who still asked after daddy, though Bilbo wasn’t sure why that was a bad thing, she thought it was supposed to be polite to ask about people’s family. But when Grammy started telling Mama how she should put Bilbo in skirts and keep her away from the woods and creeks that she played at with her Took cousins, Mama’s ears turned that deep red almost purple color Bilbo knew it was time to sneak out of the room and watch from behind the corner. Sometimes daddy would pick her up and they’d sit in the hallway playing a riddle game as Mama and Gramma shouted at each other. Mama would then storm out of the room and snatch the faunt into her arms yelling at Bungo that the only person who was going to raise her daughter was Bella herself and they’d spend a week with Bilbo’s Took family. Daddy would come by each morning and talk with her or the Old Took when Mama refused to talk with him and Mama would spend the evenings cuddling her and teaching her some funny tricks with a piece of wire and the locks on the doors of the Great Smials. Eventually Mama would come to the door when Papa same one morning and glare at him, then he’d take her hand and mumble some things that Bilbo couldn’t hear and Mama’s lips would loosen, the corners trembling as she fought a smile. Bilbo would say goodbye to her cousins and they’d be home for tea.

            But today wasn’t going to be one of those visits. Little Bilbo watched as her Grammy’s harsh eyes turned to the green door as loud yelling erupted from within. Belladonna’s voice was clearly heard as it berated something Bilbo’s Aunt Belba had said about Bilbo’s behavior that day. The littlest Took had been caught slamming the eldest Bolger boy into the mud along the Water just hours ago. Before Bilbo could finish pummeling her elder cousin into the ground she found a rough hand wrapping around her upper arm and sharp fingers digging into the chubby flesh. She’d been dragged off Herugar and thrust away as Aunt Belba turned to her now weeping son and checked him for any obvious cuts or bruises, trying to stay as far from the muddy child as she reasonably could. Finding a blooming black eye under the coat of grime that had turned his blonde hair into a stuck on mess and his new clothes into a stained and tattered wreck the enraged mother had grabbed her little niece again and dragged her to her mother, her son sniffling behind them. Belladonna had been preparing tea when her sister-in-law stormed in clutching at her tiny twelve year old, who was covered in mud and was sporting an angry pout on her face she’d seen often enough to know the meaning, followed by a young lad who was near five years her senior with a black eye. Before Belba could so much as begin to _think_ of something to say Belladonna spied the angry red marks on her daughter’s arm where she was being manhandled by a hobbit three times her height and three times _Bella’s_ weight and had launched herself at the woman.

            Freed from his mother’s grip Bilbo turned to her original attacker and launched herself at the now terrified hobbit lad. They grappled around on the ground of the sitting room for a while, Bilbo coming into contact with a flailing punch that was still strong enough to break the skin of her lip, when the younger lass had managed to pin the elder lad with a twisted move her cousin Adalgrim had taught her. Young Herugar was trussed up with his hands and legs bent and tied behind his back by a spare bit of drapery when Bungo had stormed into the smial, followed by his brother and cousin, Longo and Fosco. Longo had instantly been aghast at the display, bellowing into the mess that this was hardly proper behavior for _adult_ hobbits! Bungo ran to his wife, seeing as his daughter had her own situation well in hand and dragged Belladonna up from where she’d been grappling for a hold on the larger hobbit lass. Fosco had moved to save young Herugar and was cradling his spitfire niece. She’d remained rather lax in his grip merely crossing her arms and glaring at the lad where he continued to caterwaul on the ground. Longo scolded Fosco as he released the older lad but Fosco merely responded that it seemed the elder child probably deserved the lesson he was getting from his much smaller cousin. Bilbo’s mother had seethed as she wrestled to release from her husband without hurting the man and get back to her mark as Belba joined Longo in releasing her son. Bungo and Fosco both thought it would be better if Bilbo was removed since her bedraggled appearance wasn’t helping calm Bella and Fosco had gently deposited the tyke onto the bench outside where she’d been waiting the better part of an hour to find out what was going to befall her and her cousin.

            Gramma Baggins had been in town visiting with her sister-in-law, Lily Goodbody, for tea and had been told all about the little Baggins heathen’s latest victim. Politely refusing a refill the Baggins’ matriarch had ambled up to the foot of the Hill and found her little granddaughter glaring into the distance, amber eyes broody and over large mouth firm as she pouted into her drawn up knees. When the big eyes turned up to acknowledge her she let the stern set of her own mouth loosen a bit into something a little more wry as she wandered up gate and let herself in. She sat next to the tiny put out creature and took note of the little cut in the lip and the bruises forming on the arm and face. “You know, you look so much like your mother that I sometimes forget you’re all your father.”

            Bilbo blinked at this and turned her gaze to the elder hobbit sitting prim and proper beside her. With a small grimace she released her own legs and let them swing down, her spin straightening on the bench as she placed folded hands into her lap and looked up into the sharp blue eyes. The approval was silent but Madam Laura’s nod went a long way in loosening the tension in the tiny shoulders as Bilbo asked softly, “Daddy?”

            Why smile back in place the elder hobbit gave her granddaughter a sly glance as she removed a snow-white handkerchief from her left sleeve and handed it delicately over to the tiny hobbit, “Your father would get that same look in his eye anytime your Uncle Bingo and Longo began throwing pebbles at the Proudfoot girls for wearing their overalls when they worked their family’s fields or when Aunt Belba turned down The Roper’s offer to dance at the Spring Festival because he hadn’t cleaned his hands well enough. And sure as anything he’d have a thing or two to say to his younger siblings. He helped raise them as sure as I did. A better hand at it than I was half the time, no qualms, that father of yours, of embarrassing the lot of them in front of all Hobbiton if they were being little shites.”

            The elder huffed a laugh at the tiny gob smacked face, taking the soiled handkerchief back to finish the half done job herself, brushing mud from the chubby cheeks and around the bright eyes. “You told Mama a lady doesn’t cuss!”

            Another huffs, this one of mild annoyance, “Of course she can! When the time is proper! But we’ll keep this a secret, no reason to encourage the habit in your Mama. She does it too much anyhow.” Looking at the still grimy face staring up at her Grammy Baggins smile became less wry and more heartfelt. Paper thin skinned fingers brushed at the chubby cheeks flush with life and youth, “You know, it isn’t often a Baggins is born with these eyes. They’re very special. They tell me you’ll do something great with your life, just like your Papa and his Papa before him.”

            A tiny brow crinkled as an over large mouth in a tiny face pursed, “I didn’t know Papa did anything special.”

            Old bones creaked a little as the lady turned to face the tiny inquisitor fully, “Well he built this smial didn’t he? You know the story! Your Papa fell in love with your Mama so bad he built her this home with his bare hands. Made room for all the love he knew they’d fill it with. And he made you didn’t he?” Blue eyes bore into rapt amber, “Your mother and I don’t get on the best at times but we both think you’re the greatest thing your Papa ever gave her.”

            A small smile lit the grim face as the dirty urchin turned into her Grammy. And Grammy clutched the filthy thing to her as she whispered into her muddy hair, “Now what exactly did you do to that little heathen cousin of yours? And what did he do to deserve it?”

            The tiny hands started flying as Bilbo related a story of how Herugar had been laughing about her newest cousin, Rorimac. He was a Brandybuck but his Mama was her Aunt Mirabella Took and Herugar had been telling some of the older boys by the Water that the boy was doomed seeing as he was part fool and part beast. When Bilbo had told them to stop laughing at the baby, especially since he couldn’t defend himself, Herugar had turned his ever so sharp wit on her and said she was just as bad being a part of those thieving fiends in Tuckborough. She hadn’t hit him till he’d called her Mama something bad and then all bets were off. His little friends had run off to get their mothers but by the time Belba had come Bilbo had had her opponent felled.

            Stern expression back in place the mussed old woman turned a keen eye on her self-righteous granddaughter and nodded, “You know a Lady doesn’t fight with little boys in the mud.” Large eyes dropped to clenched scrapped hands in a small lap. Wrinkled hands covered said hands and leaned forward to whisper, “They do it where they won’t get quite so much dirt everywhere. Like on the grass. Though you may end up with some green in your dress, best wear darker colors so people don’t know what you’re up to then yes?”

            A wink and a giggle was shared just as the smial door was thrown open and Belladonna walked out with Bungo. “Mother?!” Bungo’s own brown eyes widened at his mother’s muddied blouse but Bella merely stormed over to her daughter and dropped to her knees, glaring at her mother-in-law, “What is it now Laura? Intend to tell me what a horrible job I’ve done mothering my little spitfire?” Bella was more interested in seeing just how bad her little one had faired against the larger lad and his _mother_. She was looking through the small abrasions on tiny fists and knees as well as numbering the bruises on the upper arms and the split lip.

            Rising to her feet as regally as anything in the Shire, Madame Laura grasped her yew cane and merely looked down her nose at her fidgeting daughter-in-law. She watched as the lass kissed the dirty hurts on her faunt, smearing dirt all along her own face and hands as she went. Pursing her lips she announced in her no nonsense tone, “As I am hardly one to waste time or breath on as hopeless a cause as yourself, I have come for an early supper and a chat with my children. Bungo dear, where are your siblings? Particularly your sister Belba? I’ve something to ask her about young Herugar. Oh never mind, I’ll find them myself. You stay here and make sure your wife doesn’t damage my granddaughter any further than has been done. Did you even bother to _look_ at Bilbo before you attacked my daughter, Belladonna? I can’t believe you’d let her traipse around outside in mud and bleeding!” without so much as a by your leave the elder marched into the smial and closed the door on the tiny family. There were no raised voices from within. That wasn’t lady like after all. But when Belba exited the smial she was very silent and pinched faced as she dragged her son out by the shirt collar. Longo was puffed up as he exited, telling Bungo he’d see him tomorrow to finish their discussion, Fosco followed after him with a grin and a smile for his tiny niece where she sat in her father’s arms on the bench as Belladonna leaned into her husband’s side. The family didn’t move until a slightly gruff and hardly amused voice came from somewhere within, “Am I to assume if I wish to eat this evening I’ll be cooking the supper myself? And are you intending for that muddied child to eat at the table or were you planning to raise her in a trough out back Belladonna?”

            Mumbling under her breath Bella took up her daughter and the pair repaired to the bathroom. Bungo met his mother in the kitchen with a wry smile of his own in place, “Did you enjoy chatting with your granddaughter, Mother?”

            Nodding the mother of five began the makings of a hearty potpie, “I always enjoy our little Bilbo dear. She’s so much like you it’s a continual shock.” With a soft smile for her eldest child the matriarch patted the chubby cheek and nodded again, “Besides, she needed reminding not _all_ of her Baggins family are so foul mannered. How else is she going to grow into a proper little Lady if she has so few good role models?”

***

            “I’ve seen those eyes before!” wide amber eyes met similar amber eyes as Bilbo swung up onto the branch a eight year old Drogo sat watching his elder cousin, frown fierce and determined. Plunking down she continued with a sigh, “They’re very special you know? They mean we’ll do something great one day, mark my words. We’ll make something brilliant. It’s a Baggins guarantee.” A quirky smile drew a tiny one from the tiny faunt as they enjoyed the rest of the day in the company of family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Herugar is canonically 5 years Bilbo's junior.


End file.
